Well, this may help a little, luv. My brother was very apprehensive about visiting me in the hospital. But when our mum dragged him in he said he was shocked at how pleasant the surroundings were. It really doesn't look any different from most other hospital wards, and as in the case of me and Eleanora, you can make some close friends very fast. All I can say is that if it had been an unpleasant experience, I'd be the first to tell you. But it felt like a sanctuary where I was a young child again. Given towels and shampoo and soap and sent off to shower (in private). My bed made for me. My meals cooked for me. Always plenty of staff around to lend a sympathetic ear. Lots of group work (which has also been unfairly maligned in the movies and on television). 24/7 company if I wanted it, and I did. Or I could retreat to my room (although they didn't encourage this) if I needed some time alone. I felt wrapped in a blanked of companionship. We even had recreational therapy, pet therapy (a golden retriever), and art therapy. I desperately needed support at that time and found it at every turn. I'm not saying everyone's experience is going to be nirvana. But it is a very good place to be until the urge to hurt yourself fades away. Usually, a crisis intervention counselor will interview you and decide whether you ought to be admitted, and will explain your rights as well. I say usually because I came in not on my own two feet but in an ambulance with a slit wrist; my way is not the good way to come in. I wish now I had acted sooner. But the same kinds of apprehensions that are keeping you out kept me out a tick of the clock too long. In the end, I did want to live, but only discovered that by almost not making it. Better to come in -- if you feel you need to -- under less dramatic circumstances, luv. Take your kitty's advice. Cheshire Cat